


Communion

by TailgatesHarem



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental attraction, Learning to move past the war, M/M, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Stubborn Rodimus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 16:16:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5832244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TailgatesHarem/pseuds/TailgatesHarem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Tailgate's most recent meltdown everyone's EMF fields are off kilter and some mechs have temporarily become spark siblings. Ever since the incident something's been different about Rodimus that he can't ignore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Communion, when in literature, is the sharing of a meal or experience which can symbolize a relationship or foreshadow a coming event.

Rodimus had fallen back into Megatron's arms when the blast of energy hit. Everyone in the hall around Tailgate and Cyclonus were stunned and the only much left to pick up the pieces were those used to massive waves like the captain himself. Megatron groaned as he sat up, Rodimus nearly passed out in his arms. The co-captain, begrudgingly titled, sat up slowly and held his helm. Before the party of ship security Tailgate's spasming frame fell to the floor beside an unconscious Cyclonus. First Aid and Velocity came storming down the corner, dropping down before the two injured mechs. As they went to work Rodimus waved off the crew hunting down the two almost fugitives, cradling his helm in his hands. 

"Ugh..." 

"I take it you're not acquainted with a system shock?" Megatron hissed, standing slowly. He was in enough shock as it was with Tailgate nearly trying to needle his brain module, but even so he was more adjusted to energy waves. 

"Yeah... no," Rodimus groaned as he was helped up by the ex-Decepticon. "Ah... slag," he mumbled as he tripped over his own pedes. 

"You need to get down to the med bay. All of you, First Aid called as he picked Tailgate up in his arms. "We don't know what that was. You all need full frame scans." 

"Well, you heard in the doc," Lotty smiled, lifting Cyclonus up with the help of a mech standing near. "To the bay!" 

The party moved and followed the two medics through the ship to the bay where it was a madhouse of dazed and confused mechs. Everyone found a slab to rest against except the late comers. Rodimus could barely focus on the image of the room, sighing and rubbing his optics as he restarted them. Megatron didn't seem to be phased and saw that there was no place for them. He was tempted to ask how the co-captain was holding up, but familiarity with someone who would have held a gun to his head just a few months earlier wasn't exactly the goal. 

"Ugh, forget this," Rodimus groaned, turning around to leave. "I'm going." 

Megatron turned to object but all he saw was Rodimus walking into the wall, cursing under his vocalizer and feeling his way to the door slowly and listening. No one was in the hall so he turned to the left. That was the right way to go... right? Or was it right he needed to turn? His directional sensors were severely scrambled and so he just stood in the hallway, optics dim as they restarted and brain not quite sure what direction he was facing. The captain peered out of the med bay as Rodimus tapped his pede on the ground, trying to figure out which was he was going. He sighed out his vents and turned around, walking straight and then stopping again. 

"You need help back to your hab suit if you're not going to let them make sure you're fine," Megatron declared, walking up beside Rodimus who only pursed his lip plates and tapped his pede a little faster. 

"I'm  _fine_ ," he insisted, not wanting to rely on that title-stealing ex-con. So what if he couldn't see? He knew his way back to his room, right? Or... left? "I just need to get my bearings is all," he smirked, walking triumphantly forward for some distance before slamming into a corner. He cursed with a shrill whine, crouching as he held his nose. It stung from the slam of the cold wall he could have sworn wasn't there before. Megatron approached and watched the co-captain with caution. Rodimus stood slowly, hands feeling their way up the wall and cautiously reaching around the corner. 

"Can you  _see,_ Rodimus?" Megatron asked, narrowing his eyes at the red mech who turned his head over his shoulders with a sly smirk. 

"Of course," he laughed, about to throw a smart remark when he slammed into the other wall. Megatron barely stifled a giggle when Rodimus shot a hateful look over at him. "Okay, maybe I can't see! But I heard that!" 

"The mark of a good leader is admitting when you need help, Rodimus," Megatron smiled, reaching out and brushing a servotip against the red hot-head's shoulder. But just as the two touched their EMF fields burst in a sudden rush of sensations. Rodimus' optics clicked quickly as he blinked, sight returning a little and spinal struts shivering. Megatron jerked his hand away, optics flickering a bit, but adjusting to the light once more. 

"Megatron?" Rodimus asked, turning around slightly. "Were you always blue?" 

"What?" 

Just when he was about to reply Rodimus' frame slacked and nearly crashed to the ground had Megatron not lunged forward and narrowly caught him. Megatron groaned as he pressed his palm against the floor, Rodimus holding his helm as they tried to make it back upright. The Captain sighed and placed his hands on Rodimus' shoulders. "You are most definitely not fine. We need to get you to the med bay as soon as possible." 

"No, it's too crowded in there. Noises... colors, Primus," Rodimus hissed. "Just take me back to the suite." 

Against Megatron's better judgement he guided his co-captain back to the hab suite with a golden plate by the door with Rodimus' face carved into it. It was extravagant and most of all conceited. Just like Rodimus, but Megatron was beginning to think little thoughts that were intrusive but powerful, just like the mnemosurgical ideals planted in his mind so long ago. But these weren't ideas of madness and murder, but gentle thoughts like noticing the curve of Rodimus' neck at the base of his helm and how his haughty mannerisms were similar to Starscream before the madness corrupted him. The two were similar, weren't they? Confident dancing with arogance, attractive, skilled, and manipulative. The only difference was the colors of their coat of arms. Strange how the sides were so easily switched and one could barely tell the difference. But they were intrusive thoughts, nonetheless. Idle observations that could be ignored. 

Inside the hab suite it was surprisingly empty. There were a datapad on the desk near a spacious round window and some small possessions on the shelves, but nothing else. He was trapped on Earth so long and in the company of the oddest mechs in the known galaxy that he forgot what military cleanness and simplicity looked like. 

Megatron sat Rodimus down on the edge of his recharge slab and watched as the co-captain blinked hit the side of his head. His optics just didn't want to work at the moment so all he saw was blurry figures and the glows of lights. It really sucked because he couldn't exactly kick ass if he couldn't see. He wasn't like the others who had adjusted to it thanks to the war. He was used to seeing his targets. Like the one he was supposed to watching over who now had him at his mercy. If Megatron wanted to end Rodimus or turn the Decepticon dial in his character now was the best time. Even so, the longer Rodimus waited the less nervous be became. The captain was simply standing back and making sure he was okay. 

"You can leave, you know," Rodimus sighed, trying to look at Megatron. 

"Are you sure that's safe?" Megatron tested. 

"Yeah, yeah, just go already." 

"I'll have Velocity come to check on you." 

"I said  _enough_!" Rodimus barked, Megatron stopping dead as it felt like a massive wave moved outward from the co-captain. It was like a sudden gust of wind ready to lift Megatron off his feet. The vibration sent a shudder through his frame and deep into his spark. He turned around and stared at Rodimus who had no idea what he'd done. He had turned around and was still rubbing his optics furiously, hoping by some measure his sight would return. 

Something was very wrong. 

 

Megatron waited patiently for Velocity to finish with her last patient before she could talk. She smiled at the injured Autobot on the slab and assure him that he would recover fully. Once she was finished she walked over to the captain and stood with a datapad held in her hands before her, back struts straight. "So what did you want to speak to me about, sir?" She asked cordially. 

"I was wondering what your findings were about the black that came from Tailgate this afternoon," he murmured, tilting his head towards the small medic's office near the door. "May we?" 

"Of course, sir." 

Inside the small office was a neat desk and a few files spread out and marked heavily with annotations. There were empty cups of engex and marks of constant work. Megatron discerned that they were in First Aid's new quarters, but the location didn't matter. What mattered was some degree of privacy. 

"Have there been any cases of neurological issues after that energy pulse?" 

Lotty looked at her data pad and scrolled through quickly, optics scanning at light speed. She pursed her lip plates and was counting idly on her servos. She nodded. 

"It looks like Rung, Skids, ah... mm," she paused, squinting at the notes. 

"What? Is there something wrong?" 

"What? Oh, no, no," she laughed, waving her hand. "I just noticed a few people haven't come in for a check yet. You and Rodimus in particular," she smiled. "As for the CNN issues the effects are varied. As I was saying, Skids and Rung experienced something called a EMF Proximity Flare which is when two close-contact EMF fields are temporarily conjoined via a scrambled, synchronized signal that two or more Cybertronians can share. A few others are experiencing this as well. It can be rather troublesome to suddenly become spark-sisters--ah, brothers--with another person. Especially so when you're not fond of that person." 

The room stilled as Megatron's optics widened and his thoughts began buzzing. Velocity instantly picked up on the context and gave a soft, but knowing, "Ooh..." 

The captain sighed, pressing a servo to his forehelm. So if it was true that Megatron and Rodimus' signals were crossed that meant a very sticky situation. Spark brothers shared physical sensations, emotions, and even memories. It wasn't going to be a fun time having a firm Autobot running around in Megatron's head. It was worse than mnemosurgery. It was a constant occupation of his consciousness. 

"You said temporarily, correct?" Megatron asked. 

"Yes. The bond can last a day or so or even cycles. It varies by the bot and there's no definitive way of telling left from right. I'm afraid if Rodimus and your signals match up that only time will tell when you'd return to normal." 

"But there is a test, correct?" 

"A simple scan," Velocity nodded. 

"Are you free?" 

"For the first time in hours, but yes." 

 

Inside the hab suite Rodimus' vision was slowly returning and he finally didn't feel so helpless. Though, something still seemed off. He had no reason to feel nervous but for some reason he couldn't shake the feeling. Maybe it was because he'd been carried to his room by Megatron. How pathetic. A once captain and Matrix holder had to be carried to his hab suite like a sparkling because of some freak wave Tailgate had set off. 

Now, post blast, he felt a little better. At least he knew that Megatron didn't take advantage. It didn't take his potential brutality totally off the table, but it was a start. Just as he was about to stand to find out how the crew was, however, his hab suite door opened with a whoosh. Velocity stood in the doorway and flicked the light switch with the palm of her hand. She smiled at the co-captain and took a step to the side to allow Megatron to enter. 

"Oh, great," Rodimus sighed. "I told you, I'm fine!" 

"As a doctor I have a duty to prove that right or wrong," Velocity smiled. "Think of it less as your captain nagging and more of me insisting, mm?" 

Something about Velocity made her easy to trust. Maybe it was were soft-toned optics or her sheer blooming personality, but Rodimus conceded. She smiled to herself and pulled up a scanner that was set into her palm and ran it over the mech, a red light taking full stock of Rodimus' health. However, she did something unexpected and turned to Megatron to do the same thing. Her looked to her data pad and pulled up a pair of frequency graphs and stared at Megatron with a solemn expression. 

"So I'm right," Megatron said, tone flat. 

"I'm afraid so." 

"Who's right? About what?" Rodimus growled, looking up at the two who were invading his room. Neither of them spoke and Velocity had downright turned her back. Rodimus' face twisted in anger. He hated being left out and the last time it happened it didn't end well. "Why aren't you saying anything?!" 

"The blast," Velocity sighed. "The energy created multiple cases of something called EMF Proximity Flare." 

"A what?" 

"Our EMF fields crossed when the blast hit," Megatron cleared his vocalizer, allowing Lotty to gather her thought together. 

"So? That happens all the time," Rodimus stated, eyes half-lidded in boredom. 

"They touch, but they don't cross," Velocity interjected. "When two EMF signals cross one of two things is created: a spark fusion, usually to form a bond between conjunx endurae or... mm..." 

"Spark twins," Megatron added. 

The air in the hab suite felt like a silent scream, white noise that filled the room. Rodimus blinked at the doctor who seemed to want to shrink into her own frame. Megatron, however, only seemed mildy inconvenienced. The red mech stood up, eyes glaring into Lotty's, daring her to say that again. His fists balled and his shoulders threw back as if he were ready to fight. 

"The humor on Camina must be dry because the joke isn't funny," Rodimus growled. "We are not spark fused or... or whatever! I loathe him!" 

"It's not a consensual act of fusion. It's involuntary," Lotty insisted. "It's only temporary and," she paused, turning her data pad around. "I'm not joking." She tapped the screen with her servotip and two identical graphs that laid over each other in perfect harmony. "These are the two signals I scanned off of the both of you." 

Rodimus glowered at the two people invading his already cramped quarters after being downgraded from captain to fake-tilted authority. And now they were trying to tell him that by some freak accident he had to share a existence with the very person he swore to destroy during the war? The person that took the lives of so many friends? Never. 

"You're a horrible liar, Velocity. You should be ashamed of medical malpracti--AH!!" Rodimus screamed, grabbing his arm in shock. A stabbing pain shot through his arm as he looked over to Megatron who had taken a laser scalpel off of Lotty and stabbed it into his arm. "What the--ngh!!" 

"What Megatron feels you will feel," Velocity explained. "And what you feel, he will feel. Some memories can be shared on occassion, but mostly it will just be proximity pains and shared sensation." 

"Pro-prox...?" 

"If I get to far away from you our sparks will start to hurt." 

At this point Rodimus had moved past disbelief and anger entirely and jumped onto absolute laughter. What joke was this? So ellaborate and detailed! A waste of time and a bad one at that. Rodimus threw his helm back and threw Velocity and smirk. She only sighed through her vents. There was no changing his mind. He'd just have to adjust to the idea, she thought. 

"Yeah, okay, whatever," Rodimus snickered, leaving his hab suite and walking down the hall. 

Velocity sighed and stared at Megatron who handed her laser scalpel back to her. The two counted the moments until they heard Rodimus' footsteps come to a startling halt. He had made it some ways down the corridor before he let out a frustrated scream. Megatron sighed, trying to ignore the searing heat in his spark that ached. The medic only walked out of the suite and stared at Rodimus who was begrudgingly trying to move farther away, frame shaking in pain. 

"You aren't getting much farther than that," she called. "Stubbornness does not have a history of healing these sorts of things." The only reply she received, however, was more frustrated screaming. She only sighed out her vents and looked at the captain who had joined her side. "Some horrible luck you have, being joined with that one." 

"I've had worse," was all Megatron said before walking ahead to meet Rodimus so to ease his pain. 

The medic stood in the corridor and shook her helm. She'd known  _plenty_ of stubborn bots back on Camina, but eventually they conceded to the natural order of resistance. But Rodimus, he was not the type to concede. "Primus help those two." 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the two sweet comments.  
> It only gets hotter from here on out.  
> And more emotional... whoop. 
> 
> PS: Look out for an 8Tracks mix for these two.

“I hate you from the pit of my spark, you know that?” Rodimus grimaced, sulking beside Megatron as they patrolled the halls.

“That’s not what your EMF field says,” replied the cheeky captain. Rodimus tried to fuel his emotional fire, but the true feelings were now plain as day for Megatron. Rodimus was bitter and his pride was wounded. Now, because of proximity pains, he had to tote behind the hulking captain no farther than thirty feet or his spark would start having spasms.

“If you let those spasms continue for too long death is imminent,” Velocity had said when briefing Rodimus on spark-fusion etiquette.

“How come you can see in my head but I don’t get a theatric showing of yours, huh?” Rodimus growled, rolling his optics as they walked onto the bridge.

“Because I’m far too used to people prying inside my brain to let a brat like you have your run of the place,” Megatron said firmly, approaching a mech mapping out a course for their next destination.

While the new captain bent over to check on the status of the ship post-blast Rodimus stomped over to the other side, just far enough that he would breathe his own air. He hadn’t felt this exposed since he hooked the matrix to his spark and jump-started the entire cold constructed population. It was a similar feeling, really. He could feel every spark and every life within that one blazing moment of self-sacrificial glory. But this? Intimate detail of another Cybertronian at all hours of the day? Rodimus had never bothered.

Even pre-war Rodimus was a shallow, solo kind of mech. The idea of fusing sparks and declaring conjunx endure as an official status seemed unnecessary. Plus, the pain of loss would be terrifying. He’d only ever seen it a few times, but each was more memorable than the last. Chromedome nearly threw his mind into a state of permanent damage just to erase the pain of Rewind’s loss. Why put yourself in a position where that’s where you would be pushed to? Sure, fragging was an amazing gift, but the hand-holding never suited the fiery personality that accompanied Rodimus’ flame-painted frame. He hated the fusion and reminded himself to kick Tailgate when he came out of his comatose state.

“We should be there in… mm, I wanna say a few cycles, give or take. We could warp, but the engines have been fighting it lately. Should we wait, sir?” The navigator asked.

“For now. Excellent work,” Megatron added, patting the mech on the shoulder and returning to Rodimus’ side. The co-captain didn’t seem to notice his obvious approach. His optics looked focused off in the distance, his EMF field warm with nostalgia. “Rodimus.” And with that the anxiousness returned, the autobot turning to face his new captor.

“Yes, right. We’re leaving. Ugh… we,” Rodimus grimaced, glossa stuck out like a pouting sparkling.

The two walked back off the bridge and down a wide corridor. It was near a lot of technical stations and so there weren’t many prying eyes demanding answers. Megatron hoped to relax the mood a little. He’d worked hard to maintain his authority and he needed Rodimus to trust him.

“You think I’m going to hurt you, don’t you?” Megatron said flatly, optics never looking at Rodimus. He could feel the gasp of disbelief that he knew so plainly from Rodimus’ EMF, but continued without waiting for his reply. “I’m not.”

“Oh, wow. Ex genocidal despot says I can trust he won’t try to kill me. Solid. Thanks. I’ll stick that in my mind right next to the fact that you were a genocidal despot.”

“I wasn’t always, know you,” Megatron grumbled, thinking back to the days when he was a fighter and a philosopher, not a destroyer and a madman. “I used to be something like you… in the right light… or… maybe the dark.”

“Hey!” Rodimus growled.

“I was young and hot-headed too,” Megatron snapped. “I got into bar fights and hated my job,” he went on. “I wasn’t created with hatred and the need to destroy in me. Primus, I used to write research reports on social classism. I never had the intention of escalating to… well, the war.”

Though he wish he could shut Megatron out, Rodimus listened intently, noticing a bit of emotion shine through the silver mech’s usually cold demeanor.

“What happened? Woke up on the wrong side of the recharge slab one day and change your mind?” Rodimus sneered, Megatron’s face falling.

“The Senate heard me.”

The second Rodimus made the snarky comment he wished he could swallow his words. He forgot what the Senate did to people who disagreed. He was a wild street racer and was never caught by the slow police. The only time he ever was was when Optimus offered him a job. Drift had mentioned something about the Senate a few times, but until the War, Rodimus stayed out of it.

“So… gossip, right?”

“Do you know what happened to people who defied the Senate and their functionist structure, Rodimus?” The younger mech shook his head. “Whirl happens.”

For the first time since the blast Rodimus could feel Megatron’s EMF and it ached with a deep emotional pain like an old wound that acted up during a storm. Blue optics wide with shock Rodimus dipped his helm and cleared his vocalizer. That would have been a great time to walk away but that just wasn’t possible now.

“I… slag, I’m sorry.”

“The war is over, remember? I’m just teaching you history. What was your life before factions?” Megatron shifted, standing upright and continuing down the hall.

“Uh… kind of a drifter, actually… I… didn’t really do anything.”

“The only mechs who got away with not being sorted into a class of one kind or another were the drug addicts, black market dealers, or the prostit… _oh_ …” Megatron paused, Rodimus’ field screaming with awkward shame. His optics were dim and downcast, shrugging.

“Gotta have a job, right?” Rodimus admitted. “Besides, your right-hand man Drift did some questionable things himself, didn’t he? Boosters, syphoning, and an overdose that nearly put him out of your reach.”

“I suppose you’re right. I didn’t ask much about Drift when he came to me. He seemed lost and needing a purpose. Honestly, he was the first one to volunteer and that’s what got him on my side,” Megatron admitted.

The walk towards Visages was a quiet once, Rodimus regretting that intimate detail escaping his own energy field. He hadn’t even told Optimus what he had done before the racing and the theft. All that righteous mech knew was that he got caught with a little too many credits in the bank, no job to explain it, and a few other contraband items on his persons. Rodimus couldn’t wait for the fusion to wear off.

Rodimus took a seat on one of the lounge couches in the corner under the sign and crossed his legs, reclining as he never had the room to at Swerve’s. He’d never actually come to Visages, but the place had quite the aesthetic to it. The lights were low and the glow of the drinks complimented the atmosphere. He was happy not to have to talk to anyone. Rodimus never thought he’d ever live to see the day where that thought entered his mind, but it was true. Magnus had been interrogating Getaway and Atomizer for a good five hours and since Drift and Ratchet were gone there wasn’t really anyone to talk to. Sure, there was Megatron, but his topics weren’t shallow. Small talk was a foreign concept to him and every time they talked they went deep or went into silence.

“Your optics glaze over often, lately. What has you so preoccupied?” Megatron asked, drawing Rodimus’ attention with the wave of a square glass of engex that looked more like a shot of liquefied galaxies. Rodimus stared at the drink a moment before answering the captain’s question.

“I don’t know. Why do you ask so many questions?” Rodimus retorted, sipping on the drink.

Megatron took a seat across from him and sighed through his vents. Ever since that blast the two had been in an uncomfortable place. The older mech was tired from the war and hadn’t made a connection with another since Optimus Prime. He had forgotten what it was like to be close to someone outside of allegiance. Rodimus was the first being he’d been personally close to in over 6 million years besides Bumblebee before his passing.

“I wish you’d at least answer my questions,” Megatron muttered, taking a sip of his own drink.

“Forgive me for being defensive against the mech who has the home field advantage,” Rodimus snapped smartly, glossa pressing against the inside of his cheek.

“What are you talking about?”

“What am I talking about? You get to read me like an open book but I can’t even figure out what you’re feeling, let alone thinking,” Rodimus hissed, voice low. “I have things I’d rather you didn’t know but you get the all-access pass and I don’t even get any dirt in return. How is that remotely fair!”

The silver mech felt his optics blink in surprise, face slack. He never picked Rodimus for a private person. Even so, it wasn’t that simple. Megatron had eons of war crimes, trauma, bloodshed, and rage behind his spark. Rodimus had some skeletons, but Megatron hid a cemetery in closet. And as he just said, Rodimus wanted bargaining material. Though, they shared a CNN signal, so perhaps there was some degree of leverage after all.

“Fine,” Megatron agreed.

“Sorry?” Rodimus looked up, having faded out of attention.

“I said fine. You want to read my field? Fine.”

Megatron deactivated his EMF Choke and the energy that pressed against Rodimus was so strong and domineering that he found himself leaning back against the lounge. His face was amazed, adjusting to the pulsing sensations that radiated from the captain’s usually cold demeanor. There was nervousness, self-consciousness, and paranoia, but there was also a calm sense of control. It was strange and was like no other field Rodimus had ever felt.

“Why are you nervous?” Rodimus asked, staring into Megatron’s red optics.

“I just opened up my spark waves to someone who, historically speaking, isn’t very serious,” Megatron admitted. “I haven’t done that since… well, since I was with Optimus,” he admitted. At this Rodimus spat his drink, optics bulging wide in shock and disbelief.

“You and _Optimus_!?” He gasped, voice low and shrill.

The silver mech smirked and leaned back, admiring the absolute horror in Rodimus’ expression.

“It wasn’t exactly a military secret. Sure, it wasn’t common knowledge to every recruit, but those closest to him were aware… well, at least I thought,” Megatron smirked, leg crossing over the other in a four-fold.

“Primus!”

The energy around the two began to become light and humorous rather than tough and uncomfortable. Megatron even found himself laughing at Rodimus’ jokes. He remembered when he first made it aboard and he asked Cyclonus what was the answer to not being hated and the only thing the purple jet could offer Megatron was, “Time heals all wounds.” He was beginning to see that.

“Before Optimus was a prime he was just an archivist listening to my lectures on the radio,” Megatron nodded. “He visited me in the pits and I’m sure he saw that my words didn’t exactly match my actions. Even so, he was an innocent one and an unintentional flirt.”

“Optimus Prime was no flirt. Now you’re just lying,” Rodimus accused, waving for another round of drinks.

“Read my field and tell me what is a lie.” Rodimus cursed under his breath. Not an ounce of guilt. “See. I don’t lie.”

The night stretched on and the two began to enjoy the company of each other. Stories from the war and adventures before the battles spread between the two mechs and Megatron found himself glad that he took the risk of opening up. Besides, it was nice to see a side of Rodimus that wasn’t filled with arrogance and self-serving heroism.

Finally the evening had reached its peak and Rodimus’ filters were clearly taxed by the amount of intoxicants flowing through his systems. Even Megatron was feeling lightheaded. He cleared his vocalizer and set his glass down firmly, sitting upright and watching Rodimus snicker and throw back another. He was about to start another story when he dropped his glass behind the lounge. He looked over and to Megatron with a sneer.

“I think you may have had too much,” Megatron smiled.

“Maybe just a little too much.” Rodimus kneeled up on the lounge and bent over the back, feeling around in the dark for the glass. On the other end Megatron looked away from Rodimus’ aft that was on display while he found his glass. “Haha! Gotcha,” the red co-captain declared triumphantly. “Now where was I?”

“On your way back to your hab suite. You are far past the limit of your moderator chip,” Megatron said, standing tall and pulling Rodimus up to his pedes. The red mech gave a small, “Whoa,” as he found his footing, one palm pressed into Megatron’s chest.

Across the room an unfamiliar face was watching the two of them, but that mech wasn’t staring for long because Megatron shot a glower the likes of which only a warlord could produce. To the door they walked without any further prying eyes, Rodimus giggling to himself as he swaggered beside the captain.

Through the empty halls they walked, arm in arm so to support Rodimus’ slack frame. They came across very few others and those who did notice the two’s unusually cozy behavior dared not look at the hateful stair of their captain.

Finally, after a good deal of idling because of Rodimus’ drunken unpredictability, the two made it back to Rodimus’ hab suite. Inside the lights were off and the only thing lighting the room were some faint floor lights and the two mech’s own biolights. The small round window gave a beautiful view to a bright blue galaxy with twinkling red and gold stars dappling their celestial fabric. But even so, Rodimus held Megatron’s attention. It wasn’t an intentional grip around his field that held the silver captain in focus but Rodimus’ sheer charisma. Though, Rodimus had been reduced to heated glances and laughter.

Rodimus let go of Megatron’s hand and stumbled towards the recharge slab, meaning to take a seat but collapsing to the floor in a laughing heap. The captain only sighed out his vents and stared at the intoxicated young mech. By the sensation of his field he could feel a fever pitching beneath his plates. Megatron had never been the flirtatious kind of drunk, but Rodimus bit his lip plates and held up at hand.

“Help me up,” Rodimus smirked.

“You’re impossib—ah!” Megatron gasped, Rodimus using his own weight to pull him down on top of him. He was about to open his mouth and scold the younger mech when he saw the heated look in Rodimus’ eyes. It was the look of absolute, carnal wanting. “Really… and to think, you used to hate my interior workings.”

“You feel it,” Rodimus chuckled, leaning close to Megatron’s audial. “I want to feel more of you.”

To this Megatron froze. He was conflicted because he _could_ feel the heat pulsing under his plates and the feeling was mutual. Or was it the spark fusion? Megatron couldn’t tell but before his brain had enough time to process the demand Rodimus grabbed Megatron’s helm and pulled it down, their lip plates locking in a kiss. The silver mech couldn’t stop it once Rodimus had a hold on him, their glossas twisting as Rodimus wrapped his arms around Megatron’s neck.

“Enough,” Megatron grunted, pulling away. Rodimus looked half-offline and snickered. It was all a game to him. “I’ll keep in mind you’re a feverish lightweight the next time we drink together.”

“Pff… just jealous… hehe… mm,” and Rodimus had drifted off.

Megatron laid the offline mech onto his recharge slab and sighed, standing back and taking a long look at the crimson co-captain. He was skilled fighter but in his weaker moments a slender, vain mech ruled by his spark. And he was perfect that way. Wait… perfect? Primus, where had his thoughts gone to?                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      


End file.
